Immortal Friendship II: Flight of the Sea King
by RonaldStoppable
Summary: Kim and a still recovering Ron turn their attention to Drakken's latest scheme. Unfortunately, the new mission quickly becomes a disaster of epic proportions, forcing Kim to put more faith in Ron than ever before. Perhaps too much faith…
1. Chapter I: High Flight

Immortal Friendship II

Flight of the Sea King

Author's Notes:

Let me begin by thanking all of those who have kindly taken the time to review my first work—Immortal Friendship I: Escort Duty. The support my writing has meant a lot to me, and I sincerely appreciate it.

This second installment of Immortal Friendship (which will be a trilogy) has been long in coming, and I apologize for the delay. This was due both to a busy school schedule and a desire to ensure that this work continues to be as enjoyable as my last.

For those of you who have not yet read Escort Duty, I recommend doing so before reading this story (though I've tried to write it so that you don't need to have read Escort Duty, doing so will certainly clear up some confusion). Escort Duty can be found via my profile (I can't get a direct link to post here unfortunately).

Finally, I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it, and look forward to your thoughts!

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Kim glanced around the spacious suite, utterly entranced by its lavish opulence. The Princess Jenna Kilmen had invited Kim to join her at the hotel where they could relax and recover from the turmoil of the day's events.

The issues swimming through Kim's mind prevented her from fully enjoying the luxurious setting. Dr. Drakken was somewhere near Baltimore, readying a small submarine for his next evil scheme. Ron remained hospitalized, though his recent improvement had led one cautiously optimistic doctor to suggest he could be released as early as that afternoon.

Kim's greatest concern, however, was whether Ron would be able to join her. For several days he had been serving as special escort to Princess Jenna Kilmen, ruler of the small country of Parmea. Prior to that, the CIA had put him through weeks of intensive training. Kim worried that removing Ron from his assignment and getting him back by her side could be difficult.

Surprisingly, Princess Jenna had not mentioned anything having to do with Ron's assignment, seeming to effortlessly change the subject whenever the question arose. This only served to worry Kim more, and each passing minute seemed to make it more likely she would need to face Drakken's latest scheme alone.

The waiting was killing her. She needed an answer. "Princess… I would really appreciate it if there was some way to… you know, get Ron off this assignment? I really need his help.

"You have something important to do?" the princess asked.

"Just some save the world stuff… so not the drama."

"Well, as much as I hate to say goodbye, it's probably best if he goes with you. I'll talk to Mr. Brigsby about it next time I see him—" A knock at the hotel room's door interrupted her in mid-sentence. The young Princess rose gracefully to her feet and opened the ornate maple door, revealing the two figures standing behind it.

Oh, look," she said as Jack Brigsby and Deputy Director Richard Melbourne entered the hotel room.

"Well done, Miss Possible," Brigsby began, "I don't know what we would have done without you… both the Princess and the President would be hospitalized at best."

"Wait… that was Ron, not me."

"He doesn't want to admit I was right about Ron," Melbourne said smugly. "He thought he knew him better than I did."

"I did know him better than you. You read his file and talked to him for twenty minutes… I worked with the lunatic for days. I just can't accept someone who eats caviar with their fingers as a crime-fighting genius."

"He did what now?" Kim asked.

"That's just the beginning. He broke two laptops by rolling over them in his sleep, spent nearly 75% more on his food expenses each day than we normally allow agents… at a fast food restaurant, and asked for popcorn at a mission briefing… two separate briefings in fact. And that doesn't even scratch the surface."

"That's just normal Ron," Kim said, smiling. "He's really a great guy when you get to know him."

Brigsby began to roll his eyes but stopped when Melbourne shot him a warning glance. "I knew he might be a bit unorthodox," Melbourne said, "but he did his job. He did his job very well. I'm personally putting him in for a Presidential citation."

"Ron?" Kim asked, her mouth dropping open.

"It doesn't guarantee he'll get anything, but I wouldn't count it out. After all, the citation recognizes conspicuous gallantry in defense of the President of the United States."

Brigsby rolled his eyes, ignoring Melbourne's look of disapproval.

"Gentlemen," the Princess interrupted, "It has come to my attention that Mr. Stoppable's services are needed elsewhere. With Lord Monty Fisque behind bars, I feel comfortable with his departure from a security standpoint, and hope that you'll approve it."

"I knew she'd want to get rid of him sooner or later," Brigsby spat.

Kim was tempted come to Ron's defense, but a beep from her communicator forced her to divert her attention away from the conversation. Luckily, the Princess had the same urge as Kim and rebutted Brigsby's attack.

"On the contrary, I'd request that he be transferred to my personal security team if he was a real agent, but I realize he has a family, friends, and things to do here. Taking him to Parmea with me would be very selfish indeed."

"I wouldn't mind," Brigsby whispered to Melbourne, who then kicked his younger counterpart in the shin in response. Brigby looked surprised, but realized that Melbourne was serious that the sly comments could not continue.

Kim was smiling as she dropped her communicator back into her pocket. "Good news! Ron's getting released in about an hour… so I'd really like it if the two of us can head home together."

Melbourne smiled. "If Princess Jenna approves, we will send Ron on his way with you."

"I approve," the Princess replied. "Let me make a quick phone call." She disappeared into the suite's kitchen.

"So, how _do_ you stand him?" Brigsby asked.

"Who, Ron?" Kim inquired.

"Yes."

"He's probably the sweetest, most caring person I know," Kim answered bluntly. "Standing him is not the problem, though I'll admit working with him in the field isn't always the easiest thing. You couldn't imagine how often he loses his pants."

"I probably could, but I'd rather not," Brigsby said dryly.

"He's been my best friend for years, and probably always will be."

"Well, I admire your willingness to support the mentally challenged."

Kim turned to him and frowned, but before she could say anything, Melbourne interrupted.

"Mr. Brigsby, I have heard quite enough at this point. You will not utter another word until we have left this building. Is that absolutely clear?"

Brigsby nodded timidly.

"Alright, Kim," the Princess said, walking back into the room. "My limo is downstairs and it will take you to the hospital to pick up Ron, and then bring you both to the airport. My private jet will take you back to Middleton."

"Badical!" Kim said, immediately frowning. "Sorry, I guess Ron's been rubbing off on me."

"You are going to need to stay off your feet as much as possible for the next few days," the doctor was saying, "and be sure to take all of your medications. Your immune system is weakened and you need the antibiotics to keep from getting any type of unrelated infection. The painkillers are important too…"

"Gotcha," Ron answered dismissively. "For the fourth time."

"I'll make sure he takes care of himself," Kim added with a smile.

"You're lucky to have such a caring girlfriend," the doctor said to Ron.

"I told you people think that we're a couple," Ron said to Kim with as much strength as he could muster.

"Couple!" Rufus chirped from his spot on Ron's shoulder. Kim simply rolled her eyes.

"Ok, then, sweetie," she said sarcastically, "let's get going." She helped Ron out of his chair, handing him the pair of crutches he needed to keep weight off of the leg that had been bitten. He staggered forward, barely keeping his balance but still managing to mover at a fair clip. Rufus was jostled about and screeched loudly, grabbing onto Ron's shirt.

The driver helped Ron into the back seat of the limo, storing his crutches on the floor. Kim took the seat next to him.

The sleek black limo sped away from the curb, heading towards the airport. Kim looked out the window for a moment, then turned to Ron. "I called Mom and she said she'll take a look at you when we get home. Hopefully she can speed up your recovery, because we need to get you back in shape."

"Something up?" Ron asked, his voice still shaky but stronger than it had been since he had been bitten.

"It's Drakken," Kim responded with a sigh.

"Isn't it always? That dude needs to get a clue."

"Tell me about it. You won't believe his latest scheme."

"He's trying to steal Christmas again?" Ron said in what Kim guessed was a horrified tone, but his voice was still too distorted for her to be sure.

"He never tried to steal Christmas!" Kim replied angrily.

"That's what he _wants_ you to think Kim," Ron said. "Get with the program!"

"Whatever… now it's a submarine."

"A submarine, eh? I knew he was going to do the underwater lair thing sometime."

"He plans to use subliminal messages beamed into TV programs to influence people's thinking."

Ron started to shake his head, but stopped abruptly as a wave of pain snapped through his neck. "Kim, Kim, Kim… when are you going to learn I have absolutely no clue what you just said."

"Drakken is trying to control people's minds by hiding messages in TV programs," Kim answered dryly.

"Was that so tough?"

The big jet accelerated rapidly down the runway, pulling up and climbing rapidly skyward. Inside, Kim and Ron were awed by the incredible luxury. The entire cabin had a lush, red carpet. They were seated on comfortable leather couches, looking out windows that were rimmed with gold.

"This is sah-weet," Ron said to Kim, who was seated on the couch opposite him, across a marble-topped table. "I'm going to go check out the galley." He began to unfasten his seatbelt.

"Ron, shouldn't you wait until the pilot says it's ok?"

"No… this is a private jet Kim, what could happen?" He stood up and limped towards the galley at the far end of the cabin. He disappeared into the small room, but Kim could hear the sound of bags being torn open and annoyingly loud chewing.

Suddenly, the airplane rocked violently to the right, approaching 60 degrees of bank. The G-forces increased rapidly, and Kim braced herself by hanging onto her seat. The plane quickly returned to level flight, and Kim let out a sigh of relief.

Ron hadn't faired as well. Kim had heard a number of loud noises coming from the galley, and got up to see what had happened. Rufus was standing in the hallway, waving his hands anxiously.

Kim jumped over him and looked in the galley, where Ron was covered with a variety of crackers, drinks, sandwiches, and other food items that had been neatly stocked on the shelves moments before.

"You ok Ron?" Kim asked.

"You missed my screams of pain?"

"I was kinda preoccupied. Are you ok?"

"I hit the wall kinda hard, but I think I'm alright," Ron said, rubbing a bloody bruise on his forehead. He got to his feet, still a bit unsteady. Kim couldn't help but wonder if it was due to the spider bites or his latest injury.

"I told you not to get up."

"I'm sorry Kim, though I doubt you expected that to happen."

"True enough… still, if you listened to me, you'd of been in better shape."

"And have missed out on three minutes of snackage, KP!"

One of the pilots walked into the galley, his face quickly going from grim to horrified as he surveyed the scene. "Oh my, is everyone ok?"

"Yes," Kim replied politely, "Ron hit his head, that's about it."

"That's it?" Ron asked loudly, "KP, it hur-urts!"

"Ok, he hit his head hard."

The pilot's expression softened as he realized things were not as bad as they had originally looked. "Any reason he was in the galley?"

"I wanted to load up on some snackage dude."

The pilot shook his head in confusion. "Anyway, we just had a near miss with another jet… something was wrong with his traffic collision avoidance system- we are lucky we saw him coming at us. I need to get back to the cockpit now… let us know if you need anything." He turned to leave, but stopped. "I hate to ask this, but any chance you could help clean this up? Eat whatever you want along the way."

"Sure thing," Ron said enthusiastically before Kim had a chance to answer. "Booyah!"


	2. Chapter II: The Best Laid Plans

"Kim, I really don't feel that good," Ron said slowly, stretching out on the floor next to her bed. His health was improving, but he still felt very weak. His voice was recognizable but still far from normal.  
  
"You think it has something to do with eating sixty dollars worth of chips?"  
  
"Nope," Ron answered smugly.  
  
"Well, we need to figure out how to stop Drakken before that sub takes to the open water. Take a look at this." Kim handed Ron a set of blueprints, which he carefully studied for several seconds.  
  
"It's a building."  
  
"It's the covered drydock where the submarine is," Kim said, mildly irritated by her friend's ignorance. "Look at this. If we can flood the drydock, we can get the submarine floating... then we just pop open the main doors, and Drakken's secret project is floating in Baltimore Harbor."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"Then we wait for the Coast Guard or the Police to notice the big submarine and clean up."  
  
"Any reason we just don't tip em' off to what's going on in the drydock? I mean, the police could handle this."  
  
"They would need a search warrant, so Drakken would probably be able to stall them long enough to get the sub out and escape. Once he submerges, he's safe. We'll surprise him... there won't be enough people on the sub to man it, let alone enough time to get underway."  
  
"Sounds pretty snappy, KP... but how do we flood the drydock?"  
  
"Did you even look at those blueprints I just handed you?"  
  
"Kim... when will you ever learn? Why read when you can get someone to explain everything to you?"  
  
Kim gave him a hard stare but Ron didn't seem to notice. "All right, genius boy. You see this stormwater drain? That connects, via this underground flow control valve, to the drydock."  
  
"Come again?"  
  
"The storm drain connects to the drydock."  
  
"Gotcha."  
  
"So, we need to block the outflow from the storm drain and then put a large amount of water into the sewer."  
  
"So we plug the drain, and fill the tub?"  
  
"Ahh... yeah."  
  
"How?"  
  
"I got Wade working on that... he said he'll have something in about an hour."  
  
"So we wait?" Ron asked.  
  
"Yeah, we wait."  
  
"You got any snackage around here?"  
  
"I thought you weren't feeling good? Your voice is still so raspy and all."  
  
"Since when do I need to feel good to food, Kim?"  
  
"I just kinda assumed, Ron."  
  
Ron rubbed his right hand over the large gash on his forehead. "This does not stop Ron Stoppable!" he announced bluntly.  
  
"Actually, I was more concerned that all those prescriptions you're on could be giving you some nasty side affects." Kim was surprised that Ron didn't have an immediate comeback. From her spot on her bed, she glanced down at Ron, who was sleeping peacefully. I guess that's what happens when you take six different pills that all make you drowsy she thought.  
  
"So we don't even need to go into the building?" Kim asked.  
  
"Nope," Wade replied over the communicator. "All you have to do is block storm drain #37... which shouldn't be a problem... anything will do."  
  
"And for the water?" Kim inquired.  
  
"I did some consulting work for a firm that builds pumps for fireboats. I'll have one there waiting for you... all you gotta do is put one hose in the harbor and the other down the storm drain."  
  
"OK... then to open the doors?"  
  
"I thought that was going to be tough, but it really doesn't look too bad. The main doors for the drydock have an electronic lock holding them shut... without it, the doors will just pop open as soon as you get enough water pressure behind them... then the submarine will just float out with the current."  
  
"And how we unlock the lock?" Ron interjected with a bit of skepticism.  
  
"Like I said... it's electronic. Cut the power... this particular city block has its own transformer, right at the intersection of these two streets," Wade said, replacing his image with a map on the communicator's small screen. "But be careful... if you cut the power before you fill the drydock, you won't have electricity for the pump. By my calculations, eight minutes and thirty seconds of pumping should be plenty."  
  
"Ok, got it. You rock Wade." Kim clicked off the communicator and turned to her blonde sidekick. "Ron, if I run this pump contraption Wade has lined up, do you think you and Rufus can pull the plug at the transformer when I give you the word?"  
  
"Sure thing, KP," Ron said with a yawn, "but what time is it? Two in the morning?"  
  
"You're right, there is no way we can make it to Baltimore before daylight."  
  
"I just wanted to know what time it is, Kim-  
  
"It's two AM... and we'll head to Baltimore tomorrow night, right after school. We can do homework on the plane."  
  
"You can, I'm not breaking the rules."  
  
"What are you talking about, Ron?" Kim said, slightly puzzled.  
  
Ron reached into his backpack, pulling out a small book. "Middleton Student Handbook, chapter three, section D." He cleared his throat and started to read. "At the teacher's discretion, student's will receive homework assignments which must be completed at home by the student prior to a date designated by the teacher, normally the next class period." Ron closed the book and looked at Kim. "Airplane isn't home last I checked."  
  
Kim slapped her right hand over her eyes and groaned.  
  
Kim's patience was gone, and she finally elbowed Ron in the ribs. The skinny boy had been hunched over, asleep with his head resting on the tray table. How he managed to sleep on an airplane at five in the afternoon, let alone in that incredibly unnatural position, was a mystery to Kim, but his loud snoring was all too clear.  
  
"Hey! What was that for?" Ron yelled, snapping upright.  
  
"Noise control."  
  
Rufus chirped a quick thank you and gave Kim a big buck-toothed grin.  
  
"I don't get it," Ron said, looking at her with confusion.  
  
"Never mind. We're landing in Baltimore in about half an hour anyway."  
  
"That's half an hour of extra sleep I could of gotten," Ron mumbled angrily.  
  
"And half an hour that no one else on the plane could have heard themselves think."  
  
"What are you saying?" Ron said, narrowing his eyes slightly.  
  
"You snore."  
  
"No I don't," Ron replied matter-of-factly.  
  
"Uh-huh, snore!" Rufus yelped, pointing at Ron.  
  
"Well, you're naked!"  
  
Rufus grumbled in response, plopping himself down on the armrest between Kim and Ron.  
  
------ Author's Notes: I know this is a short chapter, but I figured it was best to update quickly... didn't like leaving just one chapter up. Thanks for reading! 


	3. Chapter III: Below the Law

"Wow, I never realized what people would dump into the harbor," Ron murmured, looking over the array of appliances, car parts, and other assorted junk that littered the water's edge. "Shouldn't be a problem to clog this sucker."  
  
"Let's start hauling," Kim announced as she began dragging a refrigerator door towards the storm drain.  
  
"Right behind you, KP... ah, actually, remember, the doctor said no heavy lifting."  
  
Kim dropped the door and turned around to glare at Ron. "He also said no high-sugar foods for two weeks."  
  
"Point taken, but..." Ron paused for a moment. "I got nothin'." He grabbed something that resembled a piece of oven and heaved it over his shoulder.  
  
Thirty minutes later, the barrier was completed. The pile of refuse totally blocked the storm drain, forming a barrier nearly impenetrable to water. Ron and Rufus had headed off towards the transformer, and Kim was staring at the surprisingly small device Wade claimed could pump several thousand gallons of water a minute.  
  
"You have the input hose in the harbor and the output down the stormdrain, right?" Wade asked over the communicator.  
  
"Check."  
  
"Ok, time to power up. If my schematics are right, the nearest building, that shoe store, has some external outlets on it. Just plug in the pump and press the 'run' button."  
  
"Any reason we don't just use the communicator's battery?"  
  
"Actually, yes... these pumps can form a feedback field that could knock out something as delicate is the communicator's power cell. It isn't a problem with the power grid."  
  
"K'," Kim responded, dashing towards the darkened shoe store to set up the plug. She was back at the small pump seconds later. "Here goes."  
  
She carefully pushed the small red button with her forefinger, causing the pump to gasp and gurgle as it struggled to purge the air from its system. As the small device filled with water, the sounds died down. Kim picked up her communicator and configured it so she could contact Ron via his cell phone.  
  
"Ron, set your watch for eight minutes, thirty seconds starting now."  
  
"Can do, KP," Ron answered cheerfully over the communicator.  
  
The process seemed to take forever. Kim started to wonder if she should call Ron and make sure he hadn't forgotten to pull the plug, but a quick glance at her watch showed that it was not yet time.  
  
The timer on her watch continued to count down at an agonizingly slow pace. Kim's heart beat faster as she watched the numbers trickle past ten seconds. At last, the display showed only zeros. Three seconds later, everything went dark.  
  
There was a massive whoosh as the water in the drydock was released into the harbor. The contents of the drydock floated out freely as well, and Kim felt her heart skip a beat when she saw it.  
  
A single, small tugboat slipped out into the dark harbor, dimly illuminated by distant city lights. The uncontrolled boat's momentum keeping it moving at a surprisingly fast clip. It continued its trek, the boat's stern leading it in a wide, right-handed arc- an arc which ended at a marina.  
  
The noise was horrendous. The stern of the tugboat sliced through a huge, multi-million dollar yacht, tearing a gaping hole in its fiberglass hull. The tug itself was stuck, and was forced downward as the yacht, rapidly filling with water, began to roll over on top of it. Glass on both ships shattered as their structures were twisted by the incredible forces the water was applying on them.  
  
The force of the impact had broken the yachts bow mooring lines, allowing it to swing freely into the ship next to it, an even larger yacht. Then despite its bulk, the second yacht's hull also gave way, allowing a torrent of water into its bow. It seemed to take only seconds for the giant yacht's bow to drop beneath the waves, shearing off a section of the smaller vessel as it submerged. Kim's eyes were so focused on the disaster before her, she didn't notice the men behind her until they were practically on top of her.  
  
"Baltimore Police!" the taller of the men yelled, "put your hands on your head and get down to your knees."  
  
Kim gasped, but did as she was told. As much as she knew time was of the essence, running from the police was not an option.  
  
"You have the right to remain silent," the shorter police officer said as the taller one placed her hands in cuffs. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." The officer continued, but Kim was lost in her own thoughts.  
  
If the submarine isn't here... where is it?  
  
Kim was forced into the back of the squad car, where she was surprised to see Ron, also cuffed.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Kim asked.  
  
"They just happened to be driving by while I was chopping through power cables," Ron said.  
  
"You two know each other?" The shorter cop asked as he slid into the driver's seat.  
  
"Yeah, Kim's my best friend," Ron replied.  
  
"That's good, because it looks like the two of you might be spending quite a bit of time together... in the slammer," the taller cop said mockingly as he closed his door.  
  
"Kim," Ron said, turning to his friend, "how do we-"  
  
"Cut the chatter back there. I don't want to hear another word."  
  
Mrs. Dr. Possible slowly replaced the phone receiver, turning to Dr. Possible who had already realized by his wife's stunned expression that something was terribly wrong.  
  
"Honey, you are not going to believe this," Mrs. Possible began, "but Kim and Ron are... in jail."  
  
"In jail?" Dr. Possible asked incredulously, his eyes widening in surprise. "My Kimmie-cub? In jail?"  
  
"Kim's been charged with three counts of vandalism, willful destruction of property, operating heavy equipment without a permit, and a whole bunch of others charges are pending. Ron is in for vandalism and destruction of public services."  
  
"Where are they?" Dr. Possible questioned.  
  
"Baltimore."  
  
"I'll get ahold of the space center's jet, you get the twins ready to move out. I doubt we could find a babysitter on such short notice."  
  
Mrs. Dr. Possible smiled thinly. "We can't get a babysitter for them with a month's notice. They just aren't willing to try anymore." She had hoped her joke would cheer up her husband, but he continued to look strangely pale, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for the phone.  
  
"So, you're telling me that you had seen a submarine in that building?" the detective asked Kim, leaning across the table. "A Russian submarine?"  
  
"That's right," Kim replied, returning his cold glare with one of her own.  
  
"And this submarine, what was it doing there?"  
  
"It was being retrofitted with advanced communications equipment."  
  
"Who is doing this?" the detective pushed.  
  
Kim's eyes were burning from the bright light that was placed over her, and she blinked several times before answering. "Dr. Drakken... also known as Drew Lipsky. He's a mad scientist who wants to conquer the world."  
  
"And why is Dr. Drakken putting communications equipment on a Russian submarine?" The detective's tone was almost mocking.  
  
"He plans to beam subliminal messages into television programs around the world and use them to control people."  
  
The detective was not impressed. "That's the biggest load of hogwash I've heard in my time with the force. Most people at least try to make a story believable. You might as well tell me he's programming people with a mind control chip... or he has a legion of robot warriors." The detective chuckled lightly.  
  
Kim worked hard to suppress a smile. Retelling past stories would probably not boost her credibility. Kim groaned. "I don't know how to prove this to you, but if I can, I will."  
  
"So, this Stoppable character, was he with you?"  
  
"Well, duh," Kim said, instantly regretting the condescending tone.  
  
"So, do you two work together often?"  
  
"All the time."  
  
"So," the detective said slowly, "you're serial vandals."  
  
"No! You've never heard of me... Kim Possible, teen hero? Doesn't ring a bell?"  
  
"Don't try to fool me missy... I saw Kim Possible on TV once, and you are no Kim Possible.  
  
Kim let her head drop hard against the table and moaned.  
  
In the room next door, Ron was faring only slightly better.  
  
"For the record," the detective, a short young woman, began, "state your name and date of birth."  
  
"I'm Ron Stoppable."  
  
"Date of birth?"  
  
"August 30th."  
  
"Of?"  
  
"August."  
  
"No," the detective said angrily, "of what year!"  
  
"Oh... hmm... well I'm 18 now," Ron said, folding his hands behind his head, "so you can do the maths."  
  
The detective rolled her eyes, but decided to take Ron's suggestion and do the calculation herself.  
  
"Alright, Mr. Stoppable, can you briefly describe the events that transpired early this morning."  
  
"Well, we were trying to get Dr. Drakken's submarine into the harbor, but somehow Dr. D. managed to switch it with the tugboat, and when the tugboat came out, it-"  
  
"We know what the tugboat did," the short woman interrupted. "We want to know what you did."  
  
"That's easy. I just cut the power cable so the doors would pop open."  
  
"Alright, fair enough. What was your motivation for doing this?"  
  
Ron straightened up a bit in his chair. "Dr. Drakken wants to take over the world... is there something else I need?"  
  
"This Dr. Drakken... can you tell me more about him?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "Well, I don't know if he's really a doctor or not... I've never actually seen a certificate or anything. I really dunno if he's smart or not... he's always making these machines and contraptions and stuff to take over the world, but he never seems to get that it never works. The dude needs to just give it up."  
  
The detective raised one eyebrow a bit. "So, you've dealt with Dr. Drakken before?"  
  
"Oh, yeah! Lots of times. KP and I are always stoppin' him from taking over the world."  
  
"Could you describe him?"  
  
"Well... he's taller than me... and he has freakishly large eyes... and a big scar on his face. And he got this dorky little ponytail."  
  
The detective was scratching down some notes on her pad now. "Any specifics like height, weight, ethnicity?"  
  
"Well... maybe he's like around six feet... he is kinda tall. And, uh... I'm not sure about weight. And eth-what?"  
  
"Ethnicity... um... is he, you know, White, Asian, African American, and so on."  
  
"I really don't know."  
  
"Can you at least tell me his skin color, at least?"  
  
"Blue." 


	4. Chapter IV: Executive Amnesty

Author's Notes Sorry about the delay... things have been busier around here than I expected lately. Hopefully the next chapter will be up fairly soon. Thanks again for the reviews, I always enjoy reading them, and try to work them into the story at least a little bit if I can (I have a basic plan down, but I can still adjust it a bit.)  
  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next installment! ---------------------------------------------  
  
The quiet hum of machinery was lost beneath the roar of Dr. Drakken's voice. "SHEGO!"  
  
"Doctor D, inside voice," Shego responded irritably, stepping into the small cabin where Drakken had been spending the majority of his time.  
  
"How much longer?" Drakken hissed.  
  
"Two to three days... we could go faster if we surfaced. We're running on batteries right now."  
  
"I'm well aware of that, Shego. If I wanted to surface, we would." Drakken turned away from her, shifting his attention back to a computer console.  
  
Shego walked up behind him. "Listen, doctor, either you let us surface or you stop asking me every thirty minutes if we're there yet?'"  
  
"Shego, please, can't you see I'm working?" Drakken muttered.  
  
"You're working on my nerves," Shego responded, stepping back into the hallway.  
  
"We're not getting anywhere," Dr. Possible muttered as he and his wife were waiting for the clerk at the police station to return. At last the squat man reappeared, holding out a piece of paper.  
  
"Here you go... bail for the girl is set at $450,000, the boy at $325,000," the clerk said, pointing to the appropriate figures on the document.  
  
"We don't have that kind of money," Mrs. Dr. Possible gasped.  
  
"Ain't my problem," the clerk replied, scratching his chin. He pulled a wad of gum out of his mouth and stuck it on the wall amidst the shriveled wads of it's long since used peers.  
  
"Can we at least see them?" Dr. Possible asked.  
  
"Visiting hours are over for today, you can come back tomorrow at ten AM."  
  
"But they're just kids," Dr. Possible pleaded.  
  
"According to this," the clerk replied, jabbing a fat finger against the document detailing their incarceration, "they are both eighteen."  
  
"She's still my little Kimmie-cub," Dr. Possible said.  
  
"And Ron is, well... Ron," Mrs. Dr. Possible added.  
  
"Can't help you if they are over eighteen. I'll see you tomorrow at ten." With that, the man slammed shut the glass partition that divided his work area from the room. He turned back to his computer, calling up a game of Tetris.  
  
"Rufus!" Ron yelled, jumping to his feet, "I have an idea!"  
  
The mole rat, seated on a bench across the jail cell, rolled his eyes.  
  
"I get one phone call, right?"  
  
"Uh-huh, uh-huh," Rufus chirped.  
  
"What if I call the President?" Ron asked. "He's like, the top guy in the country. If anyone can get me and KP out of jail it's him!"  
  
Rufus nodded his head enthusiastically.  
  
It took Ron a few minutes to wave down a guard, and then some time to convince him that he actually wanted to call the White House. After that, Ron looked through a phone directory, finally finding the number.  
  
"White house information, can I place your call?" a woman asked over the phone, a quiet hustle audible in the background.  
  
"I need to get a hold of the President," Ron answered eagerly.  
  
"Sir, I'm sorry, but you can't contact the president via this line. If you have business with the president, a number should have been provided."  
  
"I didn't exactly have time to ask," Ron responded.  
  
"Sir, again, we can't just have every person who calls get connected with the President... it's just not possible."  
  
"Anything's possible," Ron said. "Hold on a sec." He fished through one of his deep cargo pockets, thankful the search the cops did was not very thorough. Crushed near the bottom of the pocket and covered in crumbs was one of the business cards he'd been given when he was serving as an escort for Princess Jenna.  
  
"I have a card here... and there's a phone number on it. It's 397-221- 8080. Will that one work?"  
  
The woman on the other end of the line was silent for a moment. "How'd you get that? That's an internal number used only by the Secret Service."  
  
"So, it won't connect me to the President?"  
  
"No, it won't. But let me do this. I'll transfer you to secret service and they can decide if you need to talk to the president."  
  
"That's cool."  
  
The transfer took half a minute, and the guard was getting impatient. Finally someone answered.  
  
"Presidential security detachment, Secret Service," a man answered with a low voice.  
  
"Hi, I'm Ron Stoppable... I need to talk with the President." Ron sounded as cheerful as ever, though he was beginning to get a sinking feeling that this was not going to work.  
  
"And what business do you have with the President?"  
  
"I need him to spring me out of jail."  
  
"Dream on bud, unless you have a damn good reason to get a presidential pardon, you can just hang up now."  
  
"I saved his life? Does that work?" Ron asked.  
  
"Wait... what did you say your name was?"  
  
"Stoppable, Ron Stoppable. I was at the convention in LA, the one with the balloons and the dude from Australia and all that."  
  
The man on the other end of the line let out a thoughtful murmur. "Alright, listen. Let me talk to my boss about this, and we'll give you a call back in a bit."  
  
Ron started to protest, not sure if he would get the return call, but the line was already dead. The guard led Ron back to the cell, where he and Rufus sat for half an hour. Each minute that went by seemed to decrease the chance of getting a return call.  
  
"Maybe I should of just ordered a pizza."  
  
Dr. Possible continued to argue with the clerk that he had to see his daughter. Despite his rather rude attempt to end the conversation, the short man hadn't been able to drive Dr. Possible away. Mrs. Dr. Possible, meanwhile, was trying to convince him that his precious Kimmie would be able to survive the night without his help, and they really needed to go back to the hotel room and check on the twins.  
  
The phone rang, and the clerk grabbed it, motioning curtly for Dr. Possible to be quiet. "Baltimore Police Department, how can I help you?" He paused. "No, visiting hours are over... that includes phone calls." The clerk was clearly irritated. "No, I don't know who is calling, and I don't really care." Suddenly, the clerk almost went limp. "You're joking, right?" The clerk checked the caller ID, feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I'll get him, hold just a moment." The clerk turned towards the Possibles. "It seems your kids have friends in high places." He left the room.  
  
He returned a few minutes later, Ron in tow. The short man handed the young blonde the receiver, which he took with much enthusiasim.  
  
"Ron here... who dis?"  
  
"Ron," the familiar voice on the other end answered, "this is the President. One of my Secret Service officers said you and Kim were in a bit of a fix?"  
  
"Yeah," Ron lamented, "We're just trying to-"Suddenly, Kim's parents caught his eye. He hadn't noticed the two familiar faces before, and was excited to see them. "Hey Doctors P squared!"  
  
"Ron, excuse me?"  
  
"Oh... sorry Mr. President.. like I was saying..." Ron continued as Kim's parents turned to look at each other, both of them suddenly realizing what the clerk had meant by "friends in high places".  
  
"Ron, I'm impressed," Kim said as she waited for the guard to open her cell door. Ron was standing next to the uniformed man, smiling broadly.  
  
"So not the drama," he quipped.  
  
"A presidential pardon... I never really wanted to need one, but hey, it worked."  
  
"Yeah... of course, the downside is that he asked us to stay some distance from him for a while. Being it's an election year and all, he said a no-questions-asked pardon like this might not look good on his record."  
  
"Low pro, then?"  
  
"Very."  
  
"Alright, Miss Possible," the guard said as he swung open the gate. "You're free to go. Don't hang around Baltimore though, hon... you might have a pardon from the president, but we'll pick you up again if you destroy something else."  
  
"Don't worry," Kim said disgustedly, "I'm outta here as soon as I can find a ride."  
  
"We already got one," Ron said. "Your folks are here."  
  
"Really? How do you know?"  
  
"I'm just that smart Kim."  
  
The cozy hotel room was located just outside the city limits—Kim had insisted they not remain within the city any longer than necessary. She'd explained to her parents that she couldn't come home yet; she still had business to attend too. Though both Doctor Possibles were anxious to have her back, years of Kim's exploits had taught them there was little point in arguing with her when she felt there was something she had to do.  
  
"Wade, do we know where Drakken's submarine is?" Kim asked.  
  
"Not yet, Kim," Wade answered via the communicator. "I'm trying to tap into a government satellite that has a Magnetic Anomaly Detector on board, but this has got to be the toughest code I've ever seen."  
  
"You can't put a MAD in space," Ron said from a small chair in the corner of the room where he had his feet propped up on the tiny breakfast table. "That would just confuse it."  
  
"Ron, first, get your feet off the table, this is a hotel, not my house. You can't trash it," Kim said, pausing while Ron reluctantly complied, "second, how do you know about Magnetic Anomaly Detectors."  
  
"My chopper instructor was a former Navy pilot. He used to fly a type of helo that used one."  
  
"Wait...," Wade said over the communicator, "Ron took lessons on how to fly a helicopter?"  
  
"That's affirmative," Ron said with a smug grin. "After that time you set us up in a pilotless helicopter, I said to myself this ain't happenin' again."  
  
"Seriously, Kim," Wade said, "would you rather have an advanced autopilot or Ron flying?"  
  
"Good point. How many lessons have you taken?"  
  
"Enough... I can fly OK."  
  
"I'll call you back when I have something," Wade said, cutting off his connection.  
  
"So, Ron, fill me in on these Magnetic Anomaly Detectors."  
  
"Well, basically all it does is detect the distortion in the earth's magnetic field that is produced by a really big hunk of metal... like a submarine. An airplane or helicopter can tow it around and if it passes over a submarine, it'll let you know."  
  
Kim was dumbstruck. She couldn't believe that this information had just come out of Ron. "Are you feeling OK?"  
  
"Well, I am hungry. You want to go grab some snackage?"  
  
Kim didn't answer, completely at a loss for words.  
  
"Kim?" 


	5. Chapter V: The Middle of the Night

The loud noise startled Shego out of her sleep. Though she at first assumed it was something simple, a second thunderous noise caused her to bolt upright. An explosion. She quickly wrapped herself in a robe and headed towards the small submarine's command room, running towards the henchman manning the watch and demanding an explanation from him.  
  
Before the man could answer, another blast rocked the ship, causing the entire submarine to shudder.  
  
Shego grabbed the henchman by the collar of his red uniform, hoisting the giant man into the air with her right hand. "Tell me what is going on!" she demanded. She brought her left hand within inches of the startled henchman's face, clenching it into a tight fist that glowed with radiant green energy.  
  
"The right battery bank caught on fire, we're trying to contain it," the red-clad individual answered nervously.  
  
"All right, get it fixed." Shego dropped the man back on his feet.  
  
"Standby to surface," he yelled across the command center, causing Shego to immediately walk back to him.  
  
"Dr. Drakken said we will not surface," she growled, her hands gleaming with a steady green glow. "Do you think you can just do whatever you want?"  
  
"Please, ma'am, we need to ventilate the submarine, otherwise we'll all be incapacitated by the fumes from the burning batteries. The chemicals are highly toxic."  
  
"All right, do it," she grumbled.  
  
Kim was trying to sleep, but Ron, who was laying on the floor, was snoring far too loudly for her to even think about getting rest. She was almost glad when the communicator beeped, breaking the monotonous drone of her friend's heavy breathing.  
  
"Wade," she answered quietly, "What's the sitch? Get into the satellite?"  
  
"Not the one I wanted, but I just got a direct visual lock on Drakken's submarine with EXSat 12."  
  
"How can you have a 'direct visual lock' or whatever on a submarine that's under hundreds of feet of water?" Kim asked.  
  
"You can't. Drakken surfaced."  
  
"He surfaced? That must mean he's getting ready to send out his TV signal. We need to get out there."  
  
"That's the problem, Kim. It's not a great place to be jumping... if you miss the sub, you don't get a second chance. And no one we know has a chopper that can make a trip that long... he's a good 500 miles off the coast. There are only a few types of helicopters in the world that could get out there, let alone get back. By the way, can you do something about that noise? It's really loud and annoying."  
  
"That's Ron."  
  
"Really? I figured it was a faulty air conditioner or something. Anyway, you better get moving. You only have a few hours at, best if, Drakken is ready to start his operation. And you need to find a ride." Wade closed the connection, prompting Kim to pull herself out of bed, feeling very lightheaded and suffering from sleep deprivation. She nudged Ron gently with her foot, but there was no response.  
  
She grabbed his shoulder and shook him, but there was still no response. Kim couldn't tell if he was playing or not, but either way, she was not in a mood for games, and gave Ron a swift kick in the stomach. He gagged and pulled himself upright, hitting his head on the sharp edge of the end table.  
  
"KIM!" he shouted, staring at her angrily. He rubbed his hand through his blonde hair, trying in vain to soothe the pain that was ricocheting through his skull.  
  
"I couldn't get you to wake up."  
  
"It's two in the morning, that's why! I'm sleep deprived."  
  
"Don't you dare complain. A freight train has been rolling through here all night long."  
  
"Really? That's a long train." He paused for a moment, looking pensively at Kim. "And I don't remember any tracks next to the hotel."  
  
"No, a metaphorical freight train."  
  
"Metaphorical... that was a school word, right?"  
  
Kim slapped her hand over her face. "Ron, you snore!"  
  
"Do not!"  
  
"Do too!"  
  
"Do not!"  
  
"Do too!" Kim yelled, with Rufus joining in. The small rodent was accustomed to Ron's snoring, but was still unwilling to give his habit a pass.  
  
It was Ron's turn to groan. "All right, Kimmie cub, what is so important that you need to wake me an my naked mole rat?"  
  
"We got Drakken."  
  
"We did? Great, he's captured, all is well, lets go to bed?"  
  
"I mean we know where he is, we didn't capture him," Kim responded, not sure if her weary sidekick was being sarcastic or serious—either way, she wasn't ammused.  
  
"Yeah... right."  
  
"He's in the North Atlantic, about four or five hundred miles off of Cape Cod."  
  
"He swam out there? That's got to be uncomfortable. It's cold, and- "  
  
"Ron, he has a submarine," Kim said in an annoyed tone.  
  
"Yeah, riiiight... I forgot about the submarine. You see what happens when you wake me up early? My thinking skills ain't up to par yet."  
  
"Ron, this is no different than normal."  
  
"Is it Kim, IS IT!"  
  
"Ron, calm down."  
  
"I AM CALM!"  
  
"Whoa, indoor voice there!"  
  
Ron glared at her, but she ignored the look, preferring instead to attend to her makeup. When emerged from the bathroom, she was distressed to find Ron again sleeping peacefully. This time she bypassed the gentle shaking and went straight to the kick, setting off a chain reaction similar to before, culminating in Ron knocking the lamp off the end table.  
  
"Ron, we need to find a way to get to Drakken's submarine."  
  
"My head hurts."  
  
"Ron! Focus! We need some way to get out there—fast—and pretty much drop onto a moving submarine."  
  
"Just get some one to fly us out, then we do the jump deal, and we're golden... right?"  
  
"Ron... we're talking about doing a spot landing in who knows what kind of weather on top of a slippery metal tube. I mean, it's a tough thing for anyone... and your not exactly a stunt skydiver..."  
  
"Just because I've gotten hung up in a tree, and a flag pole-"  
  
"And a stoplight," Kim added.  
  
"And a stoplight, does not mean I'm not good at landings.  
  
Kim suppressed the urge to laugh. She knew Ron could react strangely to things when he was tired... She had to proceed tactfully—at least until he woke up more.  
  
"I don't feel safe doing it either, Ron. If we miss the sub, we're done for... there is no one out there to save us. We only get one shot."  
  
"KP... I always thought skydiving was kinda a one shot deal, like, by definition?"  
  
"Ron... I mean... never mind. We're just not doing it.  
  
"OK," Ron hummed thoughtfully, "Bungee from a chopper?"  
  
"Good idea... if you drop the bungee part."  
  
"Ok, ok. So call up Dallas and lets roll!"  
  
"No good Ron. We need a helicopter that can fly at least 500 miles out to the submarine... and, I think Dallas might want to make it home without getting his feet wet too. The traffic chopper isn't going to go a thousand miles on one tank of gas."  
  
"So, we just need a different chopper?"  
  
"As long as it can fly really far."  
  
"No problem." Ron said with a smug grin. "I know just the place."  
  
"SHEGO!" Drakken bellowed in a voice so loud it startled people throughout the small submarine. "Why are we on THE SURFACE!"  
  
The slim, young woman poked her head out of a cabin, looking at the blue figure storming down the hallway towards her. "Doctor D... no need to yell. You gotta learn some anger management."  
  
"Shego," Drakken began calmly, "I'm a mad scientist. I AM SUPPOSED TO BE ANGRY!"  
  
"So do you want to know why we're on the surface, or do you just want to yell?"  
  
"Go ahead. I'll yell more later," the evil mastermind replied in a softer but still irritated voice. Drakken leaned up against the wall and braced himself for bad news.  
  
"There was a fire in the engine compartment... if we didn't surface to get some fresh air, the submarine would have filled with toxic fumes."  
  
"And you surfaced for that," Drakken scowled, narrowing his eyes. "I didn't think you were that weak, Shego."  
  
"We all would of died!" she yelled in frustration.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"We're almost there anyway. We should be on site soon enough."  
  
Drakken's mouth curved into a smile, revealing his immense white teeth. "And Kim Possible is hundreds of miles away... with no way to stop me!" 


	6. Chapter VI: Aluminum Graveyard

Author's Notes: Thanks again for the comments.  
  
Sorry about the delay. I thought I was going to be able to get this chapter finished up last week, but various commitments took more of my time than I anticipated. I hope its worth the wait!  
  
As a technical note, I'm trying to use hyphens instead of asterisks to separate sections of the story, because it appears thet FF.net doesn't always support a string of asterisks. Hopefully this will make the story a bit easier to follow from now on.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Thanks for the lift, Mr. Oligany!"  
  
"It's the least I could do," the stout cab driver replied. "I never would have been able to keep my apartment if you hadn't helped me out with those tax returns."  
  
"So not the drama... you had over $2,000 of deductions, someone just had to find them."  
  
"Maybe nothing to you... but you made sure my little boy has somewhere to grow up... whenever you're in Baltimore, don't hesitate to give me a call."  
  
"I will, Mr. Oligany. Take care."  
  
The bright yellow cab accelerated rapidly away from the curb, leaving Kim and Ron alone somewhere in the middle of Delaware.  
  
"Ok, Ron... we are where you said we needed to be... now what's the plan?"  
  
Ron perked up when asked what the plan was. He took it as a vote of confidence from Kim, even though, to her, it was more of an act of desperation.  
  
"Well... If I'm right," Ron said, furrowing his brow as he studied the small, crumpled map in his hand, "we go six blocks that way." He held out his arm and indicated they walk down a road towards the northwest.  
  
"If you're right," Kim mumbled to herself.  
  
"What was that?" Ron asked, turning around to face Kim.  
  
"Oh, nothing."  
  
The road dead-ended after only four blocks, and Kim shot Ron an irritated glance.  
  
"Come on, what's that mean?"  
  
"You know what it means," Kim said angrily. "We went the wrong way, didn't we?"  
  
Ron frowned. "Fine. I'm lost." Ron leaned against a tall, mesh fence and lowered his head in disappointment. Rufus crawled onto his shoulder to comfort him, but then started chirping excitedly and pointing at a small sign on the chain-link fence.  
  
"U.S. Government Storage," Ron read slowly, "Keep out." He spun around, almost flinging Rufus off his shoulder with the abrupt move. "KIM! This is it."  
  
"All right," Kim responded, already on her way up the fence which she estimated was over ten feet in height. "Come on Ron!"  
  
"Can't we just use the gate," her sidekick asked, standing back a few feet from the fence.  
  
"If you want to get caught."  
  
Ron groaned and jumped towards the fence, pulling himself slowly up towards the top. By the time he reached it, Kim was already on the ground on the far side.  
  
"Hurry up Ron!"  
  
"I'm coming," he replied angrily, clumsily swinging his leg over the top of the fence and silently praying he wouldn't rip his pants. Luckily, he managed to get both legs over without incident and climbed down the opposite side of the fence, jumping the final three feet to the ground.  
  
"Where to now?" Kim asked, again disturbed by the fact she was relying on Ron.  
  
"Uh... well... I don't really know."  
  
Rufus murmured in disapproval, and Kim gave him a hard stare. "You drag us to some no-name town in Delaware, have us run around the streets in the pre- dawn hours, jump a fence into a military installation-- and now you're clueless?"  
  
"I was clueless a long time ago, Kim," Ron said loudly before realizing his comment did not make the intended point.  
  
Kim shushed him. "There could be guards around here," she whispered."  
  
"Call Wade," Ron whispered in reply. "He's got to have a satellite over this place."  
  
Kim rolled her eyes. Ron did have a good idea, one that she had thought of herself, but she was still irritated he didn't know where they were going. She grabbed the communicator out of her pocket and Wade's image materialized on the screen.  
  
"What up, Kim?" Wade asked.  
  
"We're at the Marine base, but Mr. 'I know the way' is a bit lost."  
  
"OK, give me a minute to pull up some satellite images. There really are not too many looking at that place... basically it's just helicopter junkyard."  
  
"As long as it has helicopters somewhere," Kim said, glancing at Ron and then returning her attention to Wade. "I haven't seen any."  
  
"OK, I got images, but some bad news. Like I said, this place is a junkyard for old helicopters... a lot of them aren't in one piece, let alone able to fly." Wade reached for a drink and then began typing furiously. "I'll keep looking Kim, but it's going to take a while."  
  
"Let me know as soon as you have something."  
  
"You'll be the first." The screen went black. Kim turned to Ron, furrowing her brow.  
  
"Ron, did you hear that?" she asked angrily.  
  
"Hear what?" Ron responded, "and you're getting a little loud there."  
  
Kim groaned. "That all the helicopters here are scrap metal," Kim said in rasping voice, using all her will power to keep from strangling Ron.  
  
"Whoa, Kim, who tweaked you," Ron asked.  
  
"Do you really have to ask?"  
  
"Obviously, yes."  
  
"Well, in case you haven't put two and two together, brain boy, you just dragged us over one hundred miles, have us trespassing on government property, and made me call in a favor just to visit a junkyard full of old helicopter parts... which, I might add... we haven't even found yet!" Kim paused and took a deep breath.  
  
"Relax, KP. We'll get there."  
  
"Are you sure, Ron. We don't have much time. And I'm still not cool with you flying a helicopter."  
  
"Oh, so Kim Possible can fly an experimental space plane, but there is no way Ron Stoppable could handle a simple, little helicopter. That's what you're saying, isn't it?"  
  
"Actually, yes. And that is the most sense you've made all day."  
  
"Well, we don't have much of a choice."  
  
"You're right," Kim answered harshly, "we don't have a choice because even if we could find them, none of these helicopters work! Where did you find this place, anyway?"  
  
"I did a web search for 'lots of helicopters near Baltimore'"  
  
"I thought you said you knew where we could find the helicopters."  
  
"Well... knew might not have been the best word, but I knew how to find out."  
  
"Evidently not." Kim shook her head. "I figured your instructor had told you."  
  
"Nope, I figured this out all by myself," Ron said proudly.  
  
"I should of known." Kim felt her muscles tense as she thought about how long it was going to take her to get some real transportation lined up.  
  
"Kim, calm down. It's not like the first time I've flown you or anything... I piloted the little rocket-pack thing, remember?"  
  
"Ron: one, this is a junkyard, not a heliport like you said; and two, last time I flew with you, you hit a building!"  
  
"I'd forgotten about that..."  
  
Kim shuddered. If he could forget that experience, she couldn't begin to imagine how much of his life he must not remember. Her thoughts were interrupted by a beep from her communicator.  
  
"Kim, I got what you wanted. I got into the Marine's records and found out that two of the helicopters here are still in air worthy. They're old Sea Kings, but either one should work."  
  
"You rock Wade!" Kim said with a smile.  
  
"Hey," Ron interrupted, "I helped too."  
  
Kim looked at her friend, studying his big brown eyes, messy blonde hair, and freckled cheeks. As frustrated as he made her, she couldn't stay angry at him for too long. He was trying, and he was her friend.  
  
"Yeah, Ron," she said quietly, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles, "you rock too."  
  
------------------------------------------------------  
  
"How long, Shego?" Drakken asked as he paced back and forth across the slick deck of his submarine.  
  
"Dr. D, I told you five minutes ago... about one more day. And you better be careful, that deck looks awfully slippery," Shego called down to him from the submarine's tiny surface bridge.  
  
"Shego! If we are going to be on the surface, I am going to take advantage of it," Drakken said angrily, adding, in a more pleasant tone, "The sea air is quite refreshing."  
  
"I needed some fresh air myself, but I'm fine standing where I'm not going to fall off the sub."  
  
"Nonsense, Shego. It is perfectly safe down here." No sooner than he had finished his reply he lost traction under his right foot. He suppressed the urge to scream, focusing on keeping his balance. Unfortunately, as he shifted his weight he misjudged the rolling motion of the submarine and found himself even more off balance.  
  
The blue villain landed on his side, sliding towards the churning waters surrounding the submarine. He yelled out for help. Seconds later, he was in the water, struggling to stay afloat in the white foam the black vessel churned up around itself.  
  
"SHEGO!" He yelled, his scream partially cut off as a torrent of water flowed over his blue face. He struggled back to the surface, emitting another cry. "SHEEEEEGOOOOOOOOO!"  
  
Drakken's heart was already racing, but when he looked behind himself, he experienced a horrible new sense of terror. The six massive blades of the submarine's single propeller loomed only thirty yards away. The giant propeller violently churned the water around it, the blades crashing down with incredible force. Drakken felt himself be sucked towards the monstrosity. He tried desperately to locate a hand hold on the submarine's hull, but couldn't find anything suitable to grab onto.  
  
Shego had jumped down off the bridge and sprinted to the rear of the submarine. Surrounding her right hand with green energy, she plowed it into the submarines smooth hull, effectively creating a handhold. Now firmly anchored, she leaned down towards the water, quickly realizing she was too far away to reach into the submarine's frothy wake.  
  
She immediately repeated the process, creating another hole several feet lower and sliding down closer to the water. She snatched a struggling Drakken from the violent surf, tossing him over her shoulder up and onto the center of the deck. As soon as she managed to regain her own balance, she leapt towards the center of the deck as well.  
  
Drakken was coughing violently as his lungs tried to expel the salt water he had swallowed. His eyes were red from exposure to the water, and his blue garment was clearly ruined. But, at least for the moment, he didn't care. He looked admiringly into Shego's eyes, and opened his mouth to speak, but the green-clad woman cut him off.  
  
"You better not get all mushy with me, or I'll throw you back in."  
  
"Alright," Drakken said, his voice a strange mix of anger and frustration, yet carrying an almost subliminal twinge of disappointment and hurt. "It's dangerous up here, get everyone back downstairs." 


	7. Chapter VII: No Contact

Again I apologize for taking so long to get his piece out. It always seems to take longer then I expect. Hopefully you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, for those of you who have not already read "Immortal Friendship I: Escort Duty", this section will probably be more enjoyable if you do (link in my profile).  
  
----------------------------------------  
  
"Wade said it would fly," Kim said, looking at the old helicopter. It was giant, its enormous blades stretching, what she guessed was, at least seventy feet from tip to tip.  
  
"Sure doesn't look like it," Ron replied, his eyes fixed on the battered old aircraft.  
  
The communicator beeped and Kim whipped it out of her pocket. "What up, Wade?"  
  
"You find the chopper?"  
  
"I don't know what's scarier: the chopper or Ron flying it."  
  
"It looks that bad, huh? All the maintanence records look up to date. It might not look good, but it should fly."  
  
"Should or will?" Kim asked, her frustration seeping into her voice.  
  
"I'm working on getting the flight manuals, checklists, and all that other stuff downloaded to the communicator," Wade said, ignoring her question. I'll get back to you when I have that."  
  
Kim opened her mouth to complain some more, but Wade had already cut off the transmission. Kim turned to Ron and groaned. "I guess we better get started. Are ya ready?"  
  
"That's a-booyah, Kimbo," Ron answered, walking up to the helicopter and popping open the main door. He then scampered up the stairs and disappeared into the cavernous interior.  
  
Kim felt a sense of apprehension and fear that she was unaccustomed to. Something was dead wrong here, and she knew exactly what it was. But she couldn't think of another option. Drakken had to be stopped, and soon. After all, she thought, I can probably help fly... It'll only take me a few minutes to figure it out.  
  
Ron's head appeared, peaking around the heavy rubber seal that formed the edge of the door. "Ah, Kim... we have a problem."  
  
"I know," Kim murmured under her breath before turning to Ron. "What now?"  
  
"All the controls... they are all different than what I'm used to."  
  
"You're kidding, right?" Kim asked, "Now-" She was cut off by a beep from the communicator. "Please have good news, Wade."  
  
"I got the flight manuals. We should be good to go. Is Ron ready?"  
  
"I don't think so," Kim said slowly. "He says he isn't familiar with the cockpit."  
  
"I can't find the magnetos," Ron yelled out from the base of the helicopter's steps, "or the primer, or the little orange knobby thingy... which I don't remember what it did, but I know it's not here."  
  
Kim saw Wade roll his eyes, the movement barely perceptible over the communicator. "Kim... are you sure you want do this?"  
  
"I'm sure I don't want to do this, Wade. But I don't have a choice. You said it would be at least 24 hours to get another ride lined up. I don't have that kinda time."  
  
"Alright," Wade said, his voice sounding uncharacteristically stressed. "I think I can talk Ron through this... and I know you can help."  
  
"Alright... let's do it."  
  
Two minutes later, Ron was in the right-hand seat, flipping switches as Wade relayed detailed instructions to him via the communicator. Kim cringed each time Ron asked for clarification, something that was happening with alarming frequency.  
  
"OK, now we need to start the APU," Wade said, reading through pages of checklists he had printed out. "Flip off the safety switch on the panel labeled "APU Pnuematic Start".  
  
Ron did as we was told, dropping the small toggle to the off position and waiting for the next instruction. "Flipped off, Wade. What now?"  
  
"This is a bit complicated," Wade said, realizing it would be best if Kim and Ron worked together. "OK, Ron, you're going to handle the switches, Kim you monitor the systems."  
  
"Got it," Ron and Kim replied in sync. Kim opened her mouth, but Ron beat her to it.  
  
"Jinx! You owe me a soda!"  
  
"You are on your toes today, aren't you?"  
  
"I have to be... I'm flying."  
  
I owe you a soda if we live, Kim thought nervously.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Deputy Director Richard Melbourne surveyed the small conference room. Glancing at his watch, he felt a wave of frustration roll over his body. Only an hour earlier, he'd received a call that he was needed urgently at the White House. He had risked life and limb to fight the morning rush hour traffic and managed to get into downtown Washington in a record 30 minutes. After flashing his security clearance at the guard shack, he had been summarily escorted into the small room, where he had been sitting for the past twenty minutes.  
  
After what seemed like an eternity, a tall, slender woman stepped into the room. Her youthful looks hid her decades of experience, but Melbourne recognized her immediately.  
  
"Mrs. Fillmore, what an unexpected surprise!" Melbourne announced, bringing himself to his feet slowly but respectfully.  
  
"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Janet Fillmore, the President's National Security Adviser, said, motioning for the older man to sit down. She adjusted her elegant suit and then also took a seat.  
  
"I don't mean to be rude, ma'am, but if I may I'd like to know what was so urgent that I couldn't even report to my department this morning."  
  
"Well, it concerns the teenagers you were working with... Miss Kim Possible and a Mr... ah..." Her face started to flush in mild embarrassment.  
  
"Stoppable, Mr. Ron Stoppable," Melbourne interjected. "He was our agent. Miss Possible just ended up being there."  
  
"Yes. Being as you did all the background checks, I assume you are well aware of their activities?"  
  
"Of course. We wanted Mr. Stoppable specifically for his experience." Mr. Melbourne smiled slightly. "It was unorthodox, but it worked."  
  
"It did work indeed, but not without putting the CIA, the Secret Service, and this administration through a potentially massive scandal. I received a letter with the signatures of thirty-seven congressmen and senators demanding an investigation."  
  
Melbourne's jaw dropped. "They can't seriously be angry about such a grand success?"  
  
"A young teen being presented to a foreign head of state as a highly trained and capable Secret Service Agent? The President's opponents on the hill are looking for any opportunity to discredit him before this year's election, and you just handed them one on a silver platter. We need to work carefully here. If we don't keep the lid on this, we could have a public relations nightmare within the week."  
  
"So this has nothing to do with us?" Melbourne asked. "This is politics."  
  
"Exactly. They are so anxious to get the President out of office, they are willing to take on anyone and anything to make the President look bad, including disgracing you and the kids you worked with."  
  
Melbourne couldn't keep his disgust from seeping into his voice. "He was eighteen years old and legally deputized by the Agency."  
  
"You know as well as I do it doesn't matter if it was legal or not. Now is the time for damage control."  
  
"Let me know, I'll be happy to work with you any way I can."  
  
"It is fairly simple. You will not have any contact with the kids. You will not provide them with any assistance in their endeavors, no matter what. The last thing we need now is a continued relationship with these two."  
  
Melbourne stared at her for a moment, a stunned expression on his face. "Are you serious? No contact?"  
  
"No contact. No resources under government control will be provided to them. If they get themselves into trouble, they will need to get out of it using the same means as anyone else."  
  
"Well. I suppose that we haven't provided them with help before and they've done just fine. They are quite adept at getting themselves out of tough situations."  
  
"My feelings exactly, Mr. Melbourne. And remember, this is important. Very important. Your future career depends on it, as does mine and the President's. I trust that you will take steps to ensure that none of your subordinates get caught up with these children. Or else, there will be serious consequences."  
  
"Is that a threat, ma'am?"  
  
"It is a statement of fact," Fillmore replied coolly. "But if a threat carries more weight, then by all means, take it as one. 


	8. Chapter VIII: Into the Wild Blue

Author's Notes  
  
Thanks again for your comments, they are always appreciated!  
  
Here the story should really start to take off! (My puns are almost as bad as Drakken's)  
  
Hope you enjoy.  
  
---------------------------------  
"Now, engage the number two starter, Ron," Wade said, his voice flowing into the cockpit via the communicator. "You need to push and hold. Kim, watch that gauge that reads N2. When it gets up to thirty, flip the fuel cut-off lever to the on position. When you do that, yell at Ron to stop holding the starter. It could get very loud in there."  
  
"Got it, Wade," Kim responded. Ron reached up to the panel over his head and pressed down the starter. The old turbine engine started spinning with a loud groan. Gradually, as it picked up speed the groan became a whine of increasingly higher pitch. Kim watched the gauges, and at the appropriate time threw the fuel-flow switch. The big engine roared to life, the helicopter shaking slightly. "RON... NOW!"  
  
Ron pulled his hand away from the panel, and the engine continued to accelerate, the high pitched whine becoming more consistent as the blow- torch like stream of superheated air in the engine's core reached its maximum velocity and temperature. Wade ran them through the same procedure for the other main engine. The main rotor began spinning, bringing on a familiar whump-whump sound.  
  
Kim felt her spirits soar as she realized this might actually work, but the joy was short lived. She felt a wave of apprehension fall across her as Ron manipulated the controls. Wade seemed to be telling him everything, and Kim wondered how much he actually remembered from his flight lessons... if he ever took flight lessons.  
  
She shook off the thought, knowing Ron wouldn't lie to her, at least not about this. The rotor was spinning faster now, approaching a speed that would support flight.  
  
"Let me know when the white needle gets into the green arc," Wade ordered.  
  
"Which white needle? There's a ton," Ron responded. He turned to Kim who could only return a confused look.  
  
"Rotor RPM."  
  
"Oh, yeah... right... actually, Wade, it's already in the green."  
  
"Excellent... you should be ready to go then. Take it easy Ron."  
  
Ron smiled, Kim sensing both his excitement and trepidation. He slowly raised the collective lever, causing the helicopter to lift off the ground. He held it there, wobbling in an unsteady hover only a few feet in the air, and looked over at Kim.  
  
"Not too bad, eh?" he asked, unwittingly edging the control stick forward. The big helicopter drifted ever so slowly ahead, nudging gently against a chain-link fence with the underside of its nose. The shriek of metal-on-metal reverberated throughout the aircraft, and Ron suppressed the urge to scream.  
  
"What was that?" Wade yelled over the communicator.  
  
Kim peaked over the nose, then turned back to the communicator. "Ron hit a fence."  
  
"Hard?"  
  
"Didn't feel too hard."  
  
"OK... the Sea King is one tough chopper... you should be OK. But you might want to tell Ron to increase the collective and get clear of obstacles, like, soon."  
  
Kim turned to Ron, who hadn't been able to hear Wade over the roar in the cockpit. "Wade says to increase the collective and clear the obstacles!" she yelled.  
  
Ron shot her a quizzical glance. "WHAT?"  
  
"GO UP!"  
  
"OK!"  
  
Ron adjusted the collective, causing the lightly-loaded helicopter to accelerate rapidly upward. As he cleared the trees, he eased the nose down and the enormous chopper accelerated forward, picking up speed slowly at first, then more rapidly.  
  
"I think we woke them up," Kim yelled, pointing out the window at the numerous military vehicles converging on their takeoff site. She immediately regretted the comment, watching in horror as Ron craned his neck to look behind and beneath the helicopter.  
  
Luckily, the distraction didn't hold Ron's attention for a dangerously long period of time. He continued to keep the helicopter in a climb, its airspeed now well over one hundred miles per hour. "Kim, isn't it about time we figure out where we are going?"  
  
Kim cupped her hand around her ear, yelling back to him, "I DIDN'T HEAR YOU!"  
  
"WHERE ARE WE GOING?"  
  
Kim pulled the communicator up close to her mouth to avoid having to yell too loudly. "Wade, we need to figure out where we are going!"  
  
"OK... I'm guessing Ron isn't too familiar with the navigational instruments."  
  
"That's a safe bet, Wade," Kim answered.  
  
"I'll plot your position, required course, and other information using GPS and send it to the communicator. Then you can tell Ron which way to go."  
  
"Please and thank you." It took only a second for the information to flash onto the screen. Wade had provided comprehensive outline of everything they needed. "RON, TURN LEFT!"  
  
"WHY?" Ron asked, glancing at Kim for a moment, a move which induced yet another sinking feeling in her stomach.  
  
"BECAUSE WE ARE HEADING TOWARDS WASHINGTON!"  
  
Ron brought the helicopter into an unstable left bank, working furiously to keep the big chopper under control. Kim could see that he was over-controlling the helicopter, but she wasn't yet convinced she could do better.  
  
She waved at Ron to level off, and after a brief moment of confusion he got the message, bringing the helicopter back into something that abstractly resembled straight-and-level flight.  
  
--------------------------------------  
  
"General Simms, I have Colonel Wallis on the line for you."  
  
The big general glanced towards the lieutenant that was peaking through his office door. "Very well, put him through," Simms announced, picking up the telephone receiver off his large desk. "Simms."  
  
"General," Colonel Wallis said excitedly, "we have a situation at the New Castle storage facility."  
  
"The storage facility?" Simms asked, his voice carrying a mix of displeasure and confusion.  
  
"Yes, sir. Someone, somehow, managed to sneak in and take off in one of our helicopters."  
  
"But all of your helicopters are grounded," Simms said angrily, "how could..."  
  
"Sir, we had three Sea Kings that were flight ready, one of which was scheduled to fly to the scrapper tomorrow. We fueled it up last night so it would be ready for a morning departure."  
  
"You had a flight ready bird sitting, fully fueled, at a low-security instillation?" Simms asked angrily, pounding his right fist on his desk in frustration.  
  
The colonel's frightened gulp was audible enough to be heard clearly over the telephone line. "That's, ahh, correct sir."  
  
"Do we have any idea what they are doing?"  
  
"No sir... we tracked them heading to the south, but our radar is only short range here. I can call air traffic control and see if I can get any records."  
  
"I'll have my personal staff take care of it. You sit tight, and wait until I have further instructions. Is that clear?"  
  
Colonel Wallis began to protest, but quickly decided it was better to keep quiet. "Crystal, sir."  
  
Simms slammed the receiver back in its cradle, and yelled for his assistant. The young lieutenant appeared at the door.  
  
"Son, get all of the senior staff together. Tell them we have an M-V- Thirty-One Stroke Bravo scenario: mysterious theft of a rotary-wing aircraft."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Kim, how much farther. I'm getting tired."  
  
"Ron!" Kim looked at her friend, still trying to figure out how she ever went along with this plan. "Ron," she said again, this time more calmly. "You need to hang in there. Everyone is counting on you."  
  
"That's way intense pressure, KP." Ron took his hand off the collective for a moment to wipe his brow.  
  
"You're doing good, Ron," Kim said. At least you're keeping it right- side up.  
  
"So... when I get over the submarine, you climb down using the winch?" Ron asked.  
  
"What about you?" Kim inquired.  
  
"Hmmm... good point."  
  
"I have a solution," Wade said, his voice coming in loudly over the communicator. "Just land next to the sub."  
  
"Wade," Ron yelled, "the sub is in the middle of the ocean!"  
  
"And the Sea-King is built so in an emergency it can land on water."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
"OK, then I just fly it into the ocean and we're chauncy."  
  
"Ron, please rephrase that," Kim asked politely. She turned back to the communicator. "So, how long till we make a splash, Wade?"  
  
"Based on your current speed, the winds, and other pertinent factors, I'd expect you to arrive over the submarine in 42 to 45 minutes."  
  
"You rock, Wade."  
  
"I try."  
  
------------------------------  
  
The officers all snapped to attention as General Simms strode into the room, his elegant leather briefcase under his left arm and an aide in step behind him.  
  
"Gentlemen, seats," Simms said, motioning for the men in the room to sit. "As you all know, roughly an hour ago an SH-3 Sea King helicopter made an unauthorized departure from the New Castle Decommissioning Installation. Using data provided by the FAA, we have been able to track the helicopter to this location." Simms placed his pointer against the wall map that dominated the room.  
  
"Thus far," Simms continued, "we have not been able to contact the pilots. I want a flight of fighters dispatched immediately to intercept the aircraft and make all possible efforts to contact the helicopter."  
  
"We have Falcons standing by at Andrews, sir," an Air Force Captain said.  
  
"Good," Simms replied. "I want to make contact with whoever has that helicopter, but make sure your pilots know if the chopper does not respond, I want them to take it down." 


	9. Chapter IX: Live Fire

Sorry for taking so long to update—I've been (and still am) out of town—but I finally decided to pay for internet access at the local café and get this thing uploaded. Hope ya'll enjoy!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The communicator beeped, and Wade began to speak before Kim even had a chance to acknowledge him. "Kim, I wanted to give you a heads up."

"A heads up for what?" she asked, startled by the somewhat worried expression on his face.

"You have company coming. Four jet fighters are closing on you... I'm trying to find out what they are doing, but all their transmissions are pretty heavily encrypted."

"Probably friends of whoever we took the helicopter from," Kim said grimly, looking over at Ron and rolling her eyes.

"You're probably right. Kim, does Ron know anything about the defensive avionics on the helicopter?"

Kim glanced at Ron, and it was readily apparent he hadn't heard Wade's question over the din of the cockpit. "RON! Do you know anything about the defensive avionics on this helicopter?"

"THE WHAT?"

Kim didn't bother to clarify for him. "He doesn't have a clue," she told Wade, shaking her head slowly. "You don't think they would actually shoot at us, do you?"

"I'll know in just a minute," Wade answered. He was already typing furiously. "I just remembered General Simms gave us a back door code in case we ever needed to know about any specific military operations."

"General Simms? From Area 51, right? Remind me to send him a thank you."

"Will do. He's actually an operations director at Central Command now... head honcho type. I'm almost in.... here we go, dispatch to 113th Air National Guard Squadron... directs four fighters to intercept you at best speed, establish contact, and escort you back to a military base."

"We can't go to a military base. Drakken is out there, and poised to strike!"

"You don't have much choice, Kim... they're authorized to use deadly force."

"I heard _that_," Ron blurted out from the right seat.

"Let me call General Simms and see what I can do. Until then, try and get those fighters on the radio and talk to them till we can work something out."

"Got it, Wade," Kim answered somewhat nervously. Here she was, in a helicopter that was practically an antique, over the ocean, being chased by jet fighters, and worst of all, with Ron as the pilot.

General Simms stood in the command center, monitoring the console as the four blue blips representing his jets converged on the slow moving red dot that used to be his helicopter.

An aide tapped the general on his shoulder, whispering into his ear that he had a call from the Pentagon. Reluctantly, Simms broke away from the screen and walked towards the communications table at the far end of the room, donning a hands-free headset. "General Simms."

"Hi, uh, General... this is Wade, Kim Possible's friend."

"How did you get on a secure pentagon line?" the general asked in an accusing tone.

"That's not important right now. I really need to talk with you."

"Son, this is not a good time."

"But, I know..." Wade's voice disappeared as Simms pressed the disconnect button. As much as he'd like to help the kids with their little save the world schemes, he was far too busy at the moment. His responsibilities as a the senior officer at CENTCOM had to come first.

The jet flew by again, trailing an invisible stream of wake turbulence that rocked the helicopter violently. Ron struggled to maintain control, unaccustomed to flying a helicopter, let alone dealing with severe and unpredictable turbulence.

Kim's fingers continued to fly frantically over the radio, but despite her best efforts, all the lights remained off. "Of all the things that could be wrong on this trash heap of a helicopter," she mumbled to herself, "the radio doesn't work." Another fighter jet whisked by, its afterburner shooting out a plume of flames. The jet climbed and rolled to the left before disappearing from sight. Suddenly, and alarm came on in the cokpit, one so loud and blaring it seemed to overpower the sound of the rotor.

"WHAT IS THAT?" Kim yelled to Ron, hoping that somehow her friend would have the slightest idea of what was going on.

"I DON'T KNOW, BUT IT SOUNDS NOT GOOD!"

"General Simms," a young lieutenant reported, "Bravo two reports AIM-9 lock and requests permission for weapons release."

"Standby one for weapons release," Simms ordered, looking at the display board. One fighter was positioned ahead of the helicopter, two were trailing it, staggered slightly to the left and right, and the fourth was directly behind it, positioned for a perfect shot with a heat seeking missile. As he watched, the lead fighter broke off, slipping into formation behind the other four so that the missile wouldn't have any chance of inadvertently locking onto it's hot engine.

"General, you have a phone message from the White House," an aide said, handing the general a headset which he quickly donned.

"This is Gen-"

"I know about the helicopter," an all-to-familiar voice blurted out.

"Wade? Again? I thought I told you I... wait... the helicopter?"

"Yes, Kim Possible is on that helicopter. Her and Ron."

"Ron? Who is he?" the General asked.

"That's not important. But they need the helicopter. Dr. Drakken is up to something big, and that is their only way to stop him."

"You want me to let her steal a multi-million dollar piece of equipment from the US military?" Simms asked, his voice clearly annoyed.

"If it weren't for her, you wouldn't be around today, General," Wade said, surprising himself with the forcefulness of his own tone. "This is the same Kim, and the same Drakken. She needs to go. You know she can stop him, you've seen it. You have to let her go."

Simms felt a lump growing in his throat. He knew that letting them go was not procedure, and it could end his career. But if there was one thing nearly forty years of military service had taught General Simms, it was you had to go with your gut. He pulled the headset off and turned to the communications officer. "Call them off. Call off the planes."

"Sir?" the officer asked, aghast at this sudden change of orders.

"NOW, captain!" Simms demanded.

The officer nodded his head. He turned to his console and keyed up the satellite relay to the aircraft. "Bravo two, bravo two, this is CENTCOM. Stand down and safe weapons."

"CENTCOM," a voice crackled back across the speaker, "confirm you want me to disengage?" The pilot's surprise was clear despite the poor quality of reception.

"That is affirmative."

"Bravo two has disengaged," the pilot reported.

"Bring them home," Simms said before walking back to his consul.

"Yes sir. Bravo flight, return to base."

The fighters streaked by the left side of the helicopter in two sets of two as they climbed slowly in a gentle left turn. Kim felt a wave of relief spread throughout her body. Ron exhaled sharply next to her.

The siren, which Kim had discovered was a missile warning system, had shut off seconds earlier. With its ear-shattering squeal gone the deafening roar of the engines and rotor now seemed to be little more than a pleasant background noise.

Kim grabbed her communicator off of the console she had left it on. "Wade... I don't know what you did... but you definitely continue to rock!"

"Just routed my call to General Simms through an encrypted phone network so it would have high priority."

"Did you call collect?" Ron asked from across the cockpit.

Once again, Kim and Wade ignored him. "I show you 20 miles or so from the sub. It should come into sight in about nine minutes."

"And then?" Kim coaxed.

"And then you land near it... you're going to need to get in front of it. If you touch down too far behind it, there is no way you'll be able to swim fast enough to catch up to it. I'm showing him making about twelve knots right now... that's about fourteen miles an hour."

An excited squawk from Rufus drew Kim's attention. She followed the naked mole-rat's extended arm to a speck on the horizon. Kim pulled a pair of binoculars out of her bag to take a closer look. Sure enough, she could make out the distinctive profile of a submarine.

"Good work, Rufus," Kim said, patting the naked rodent on the head.

"Cheese?" Rufus asked.

"When we get back," Kim said, "I'll get you cheese... don't worry." She shifted attention to the pilot. "Ron, turn left a little bit... you see the sub out there?"

"The black thingy?"

"That would be it."

"OK, we're goin' in."


	10. Chapter X: Under the Rug

Back over to the CIA for a bit before KP and Ron commence their final approach!

Hope you enjoy!

Richard Melbourne stared across the table at his assembled staff. One assistant deputy director, three officers, two special agents, and half a dozen administrative assistants and other support staff members filled the conference room to capacity.

"First off, folks, I want to thank you for your hard work over the past few weeks. We've had quite an interesting run, and all of you have performed exceptionally. Without your hard work, it is very possible that the President and or princess could have been severely injured."

Melbourne's face became more serious as he continued. "Unfortunately, because of the unpopular media attention, coupled with some other factors I am not totally at liberty to discuss, we have been asked not to work with Kim Possible and her associates for the foreseeable future. And let me be quite clear when I say 'not work with', I mean absolutely no contact. I don't want so much as a phone call made. I know it sounds harsh, but this directive comes directly from the National Security Advisor, so I expect that all of you will act accordingly."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Jack Brigsby mumbled from his seat to Melbourne's right.

Melbourne glanced at him, his eyes narrowing. "I thought you had finally realized how important Mr. Stoppable was to the operation."

"Realized, yes. Like him, no."

Melbourne sighed heavily. "Fair enough." He paused for a moment, a bit irritated he'd had to call together his entire staff for such a simple announcement. He tried to think of something else worthwhile he could do with them so that the meeting would at least have something that resembled a productive outcome, but his mind was blank. "All right folks, that's all I have. Mr. Brigsby and Mrs. Carter, if you'll stay behind, the rest of you can get back to work.

The room filled with quiet murmurs of acknowledgement, and the members slowly filed out of the rear door, most grateful that they could return to productive work. The last man to leave quietly shut the door, leaving Melbourne, Brigsby, and Assistant Deputy Director Catherine Carter alone.

"Mr. Brigsby, Mrs. Carter and I found your after-action report, shall I say, most interesting?" Melborune said softly as he pulled a copy of the paper out of his leather briefcase.

"I tried to be as factual as possible, sir. As you can tell, I do not believe that Mr. Stoppable brought onboard any special skills which could not have been found in an agent or military officer. Even a cadet from one of the service academies, perhaps, if you really wanted someone in her age group."

"That is all well and good, Jack," Carter began, her voice far more forceful than Melbourne's almost soothing tone, "but you continued on. You harpooned this young man's character, criticized the decisions of your superiors, and you do not, at any point, recognize the complete and total success of the operation."

"To address your last point first, ma'am, I did note that the operation was successful. I just stated that had we used an agent rather than an incompetent outsider, we would have completed the operation with far lower risk and without many of the headaches we had. Do I really need to remind you that we made the front page of every major newspaper on the West Coast?"

"Most of them seem to realize that their initially harsh criticism of the operation was ill-founded. The LA Times even sent me a formal letter of apology," Melbourne said.

"And last time I checked, the editor at the LA Times was not trained in intelligence, law enforcement, security, or any other subject that would give his opinion credence in this matter."

"The point is not his credibility, it is ours," Carter countered. "By retracting their statements, the paper restores our credibility in the public eye."

"I see that my opinion is not counting for much," Brigsby replied sourly.

"Plus, you still haven't accounted for your lambasting of Ron Stoppable," Melbourne said accusingly.

"If you had spent the amount of time with him I did, you would understand."

"I rather liked him the one time I met him," Carter commented. "Reminded me a bit of my oldest son back when he was in high school."

"My deepest sympathies, ma'am," Brigsby said, his face dead serious. Carter glared at him angrily but held her tongue. She knew that Melbourne was unhappy, and that his words would carry more weight.

"Mr. Brigsby," Melbourne spit out in a surprising fit of anger, "Ronald Stoppable did his job perfectly, and you have the nerve to not just criticize him, but to utterly tear apart his character, citing every possible flaw you could find within him."

"I assure you, compared to what I could have written, those words were quite kind. The kid is clueless. He's like a walking shell of a human being... the body is there, the brain isn't. You asked me to teach him etiquette, and I did... it took days. Things that normally take minutes took hours. He constantly had some ill conceived comment to make, and his insistence on bringing a hairless rat around wherever he went was unusual and unpleasant to say the least."

"He's eighteen," Carter said bluntly.

"Eighteen might mean inexperienced. It doesn't have to mean stupid."

"He is not stupid," Melbourne coughed, a flash of anger crossing his normally tranquil face.

"He ate caviar... with his hands!" Brigsby exclaimed. "He hit himself in the head with a phone. He-"

"Saved the life of the President of the United States," Melbourne interjected. "I'm ordering that you review your report."

"It is my report. You can write an amendment to it in order to explain your objections, sir." The last word of his sentence was decidedly sour, the tone itself a challenge to Melbourne's authority.

"I don't think you understand, Mr. Brigsby. This document will likely be declassified in relatively short order as nothing within it contains materials that are considered sensitive. When that happens, the press will be lining up to read it. We will not; we can not allow this inaccurate image of internal dissent and incompetence to be portrayed to the public. It would be bad enough if it was true."

"Sir, this is the truth, and I believe what you are asking me to do as falsify a document."

"Nothing of the sort. I'm asking you to withhold personal opinions based on your difficulty working with Mr. Stoppable prior to the beginning of the Princess' visit. I want you to focus on his performance following her arrival, and I want this revised document done in 24 hours." Melbounre laid his big palms on the table before him, looking at Brigsby with an iron gaze. "You are not going to tear apart the professional life of this young man before it begins because of your personal feelings."

"Who is being personal now, sir?" Brigsby countered. "You are worried that if this was publicized, it could adversely affect him. That doesn't seem to be something you should be concerned about if your goal is objectivity."

"Since when am I not concerned about the welfare of those I work with?" Melbourne asked.

"Since the National Security Advisor said you couldn't be."

"This is not what she meant."

"Can you be sure?"

Melbourne stood up, towering over Brigsby. "Listen carefully, Agent Brigsby. That document is inadequate. If you fail to make the appropriate changes, I'll be forced to explain to the Director why one of my staff took it upon himself to write a work of fiction and submit it to the National Security Council. Needless to say, you won't be around here for long."

"Mr. Melbourne, I stand by my assertions, but if you deem it necessary, I will make the appropriate changes. However, I will request that the original document be kept on an internal file for records purposes and classified as needed."

"Fair enough. The copy that will be publicly released has to be clean, but there is nothing that says we can't keep an additional document internally offering a different viewpoint. However, it will not be in any way, shape, or form considered official."

"Understood, sir."

"But, and I ask this out of personal curiosity, not in my role as deputy director, what is it about this young man that makes you're reaction towards him so venomous ?"

"Sir, this boy is what his peers call a loser... he's a social outcast lacking in the basic skills required for someone to be an effective member of society, not to mention lacking in intelligence, dexterity, culture, and much more... at least when compared to other young agents I've worked with. I cannot make an accurate comparison between him and other kids his age, but heaven help us if there are many like him."

"Tell him to reduce the collective further and allow the helicopter to descend at around five hundred feet per minute." Wade's voice was beginning to sound a bit stressed, the reality of how dangerous the next few minutes would be on his mind. It still sounded far better than Kim's voice. She had spent the majority of the trip relaying commands from Wade to Ron, yelling over the constant whine of gas turbines and beating of rotor blades. Her throat was now sore, her vocal chords strained.

"Ron," she said, looking at her pilot, "Wade says to decrease the collective and start going down at about five-hundred feet per minute."

"Decreasing collective," Ron said slowly as he smoothly adjusted a lever. Kim felt the helicopter start to drop, accelerating rapidly downward. It then shuddered slightly before the descent slowed. Kim looked over at Ron and saw his eyes wide with surprise, having apparently startled himself with the abrupt loss of altitude.

"When you are at about one hundred feet, you gotta slow your descent in order to land nice and gently... in front of the submarine." Wade typed on his computer for a moment, than returned his full attention to Kim. "The sea is pretty calm, so as long as Ron touches down gently, you should be ok."

"That's good news," Kim said. At least something was going their way.

The black submarine was looming larger now, and Kim peered through her binoculars again, trying to determine if anyone was watching them. Oddly enough, no one seemed to be above deck. Normally, a submarine would have at least a lookout, but Drakken's submarine could have passed for abandoned were it not for the churned up wake that streamed around it's hull as the small diesel sub plowed forward. With the lack of a sentry in mind, Kim decided it would be best to try and get close to the submarine before leaving the helicopter.

"Ron, try and put us down about five hundred yards off the bow," Kim said. "Not directly in front of it," she added. She hoped that would be obvious to Ron, but had learned never to count on his common sense.

"What," Ron shot back.

"Land four football fields away from the front end. A little off to one side."

"Gotcha covered, KP. We are going down."

"Rephrase please."

"We're going in."

"Ron!"

"What?"

Kim shook her head and looked away from Ron, mentally calculating how she was going to make her next move. If Wade was right about the speed of the submarine, which she had confidence he was, and Ron put the helicopter down where it was supposed to go, which she had many more concerns about, they would have roughly thirty seconds until the bow passed them...

They were now barely 50 feet off the surface, and Ron had increased power slightly as Wade had instructed him, slowing the helicopter's rate of descent. Kim looked out the window, the dark shape of the submarine growing ever larger. The small waves themselves grew as the chopper drifted lower, its massive rotor was kicking up tremendous amounts of spray. The helicopter seemed to be coming down too fast, something Kim could tell Ron noticed as well. He began to add power, but by then it was too late.


	11. Chapter XI: Revelations of the Heart

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the delay, it seems life continues to get busier and busier. Nonetheless, I bring to you the final chapter of Book 2—Book 3 is well underway, but it might take me a little time to finish tweaking it. I'll update here to let everyone know when Book 3 (as of yet, untitled) goes up—and, as always, thank you for your comments!

The massive chopper hit the water with its broad underside, kicking up an enormous wake. The force of the impact sheered off the right pontoon, allowing the helicopter to roll over onto its damaged side. As the list passed 30 degrees, the main rotor was forced into the waves where the rapidly spinning blades intersected the surface, sending debris in all directions.

Kim was not willing to wait and see how the chopper came to rest. Even before the impact she had Ron's shirt collar in her hand and was pulling him out of the cockpit. Only an instant later the glass panels that encapsulated the cockpit them exploded inward, allowing salt water, laden with deadly pieces of broken glass, to gush into the compartment where they had been seated only seconds before.

Kim leaned out of the main door, aiming her grappling hook and firing it at the oncoming submarine, which seemed to be headed directly towards them. The sudden roll of the helicopter threw off her shot and the hook sailed skyward, its long steel cable obediently in trail.

Kim felt Ron slip from her grip, and turned around to look for him. He was standing on what had previously been the sidewall, and luckily appeared unhurt. Neither of them was going to be in good condition for very long, she realized, if they didn't get out of the helicopter soon. The only question was whether the chopper would sink fast enough to avoid being hit by the oncoming submarine.

Ron was well aware of the urgency of there situation, as water was already swelling around his feet, climbing steadily higher towards his knees. Kim pulled herself out of the cabin, and laid down on what had previously been the side of the fuselage. She offered a hand to Ron, which he eagerly took, and helped him up to her position. She aimed her grappling hook again—the submarine was now so close that it seemed almost impossible for a shot to miss.

The hook landed at the base of the submarine's large dorsal sail. She grabbed Ron, wrapping her arm around his chest and holding him tightly to her side, then pressed a button which rapidly reeled the pair towards the oncoming metal monster.

The icy water made the short trip from the sinking helicopter to the sub even more unpleasant. Kim was overcome with a strong feeling of relief when she felt the firm, metal hull under her feet. She helped Ron up, noticing that he was shivering slightly but otherwise in good shape. It took her a few seconds to get her bearings, and Ron seemed to perk up only moments later, his mind finally catching up to the rapidly unfolding events that he had literally been dragged through.

"KP," he said slowly, his breathing labored, "we need to move."

It took Kim a moment to comprehend the reasoning behind his statement, but it was not long in presenting itself. Glancing forward, she saw the bow of the submarine only yards from the partially submerged hulk of their Sea King helicopter. Ron was already moving, unable to help Kim because he required both hands to keep from sliding on the slick surface of the submarine.

They safely cleared the impact zone with several seconds to spare, but the ensuing collision completely destroyed any element of surprise.

The heavy metal bow of the Kilo-class submarine tore into the thin aluminum skin of the chopper, literally ripping the large helicopter in two with a tremendous grating of metal on metal. Ron cringed upon hearing the horrible sounds, the sensation being made all the worse by vibrations transmitted through the Kilo's hull. Standing on the metal deck, every aspect of the collision was transmitted directly into their bodies as if they were pressed against a chalkboard as someone pulled their uncut nails across it.

The broken halves of the helicopter were pushed aside, floating for a moment in the frothy wake of the submarine before disappearing from view. Despite the fact smaller components of the helicopter continued to assault the Kilo's skin, the scene seemed almost silent as the horrible noise of the initial collision died away. All too soon it was replaced with new noises, one's which Kim and Ron found even more troubling.

Kim had realized that the impact wouldn't have gone unnoticed, but she was still impressed by the speed with which Drakken's henchmen had managed to respond. The red-clad men were already emerging from two hatches towards the rear of the vessel... the force easily two dozen strong if not more.

"Ron, get their attention... I'll get around behind them."

"How?"

"Do something... anything," Kim said as she began her surreptitious crawl along the sloping side of the Kilo's hull. Ron turned walked towards the center of the deck, standing up to his full height and facing the henchmen.

"Hey, ya'll. This is one cool cruise. I was just looking for the buffet. Can one of you guys give me a hand?"

"The sharks around here are looking for a buffet too," one of the henchmen said in a surprisingly witty comment, "and you're on the menu." The henchman motioned for several of the men around him to charge Ron, causing the young man to screech in panic before jumping to the right. One of the henchmen streaked by him, loosing his footing and tumbling down the side of the submarine. Another saw his comrade's misfortune and broke of his attack, swinging his body around into a position from where he could block Ron from traveling any further towards the rear of the submarine.

A third man lunged for Ron, getting a hold of his right ankle and pulling him to the deck. Ron squirmed, trying in vain to loosen the man's grip. Finally, the man's grasp weakened, and Ron broke free. The inertia of the violent movement pulled him across the slick deck, and Ron let out a high pitched squeal as he rolled down towards the violent wake.

"Ron!" Kim gasped, inadvertently alerting the henchmen she had been trying to furtively circle around. She swiftly jumped into the air, kicking the first of two approaching men before using his body to boost her into position to fight the second man. She quickly incapacitated him and made her way towards Ron, who was struggling to keep his head above water. Kim slid down towards him, deciding she'd get to him first, then figure out a way to get back onto the submarine. She grabbed his hand, pulling him close to her before flipping her body around to face the Kilo's hull.

She spotted a set of strangely irregular handholds which appeared to have been cut hastily into the side of the vessel. Despite the fact the sharp edges were almost certain to cut her hands, she decided it was her best option. She pulled Ron after her, struggling back up towards the main deck. Ron found the handholds himself and grabbed onto them, leaving Kim's hands free.

She pulled herself rapidly upward, grabbing what appeared to be the last of the handholds and began to pull herself onto the deck.

Suddenly, she stopped, as she felt a cold metal cuff encircle her slender wrist. Looking up, she saw a dark-haired woman in a green and black jumpsuit staring at her, her face contorted into a malicious grin. Grabbing at Kim's other hand, Shego slipped the cuff around it as well, pulling Kim up onto the deck.

"Now, I just wanted to toss you into the Atlantic," Shego said, her voice cold and impassive, "but you know Drakken. He doesn't want to take over the world unless someone is there to watch."

Kim looked the green woman in the eye. "You can tell Drakken we'd prefer the Atlantic."

"Actually Kim," she heard Ron's voice call out from behind her, "Drakken's plan sounds cool too."

Kim turned to look at her friend, noticing someone had managed to get him in handcuffs as well. "Why did you have to land in front of the submarine?" she asked in an irritated tone.

"Kim, we have bigger issues," Ron reminded her, acting as the voice of reason, something he rarely did.

Shego motioned to a group of henchmen, and in minutes Kim and Ron were secured next to each other, securely fastened to the wall by their hands, feet, waist, and neck. Rufus was placed in a small steel cage with so little room he couldn't turn around.

Kim heard footsteps on the metal floor and shifted her gaze towards the door as much as her restraints would allow.

"Kim Possible," a familiar voice blurted out. "I must say, though you're visit was certainly unexpected, I'm glad you came. This room needed some decorations on the wall."

"Drakken, give it up! You know this isn't going to work," Kim blared, her eyes narrowing and focusing intently upon the blue-skinned man.

"It isn't going to work? And who, who is going to stop me?" Drakken chuckled, then pointed at Kim with a gloved hand. "You?" He narrowed his eyes, bringing his face to within inches of Kim's. It took every bit of Kim's willpower to keep from cringing. In addition to the inherent repulsiveness of his blue face, his body reeked worse than rotting flesh. "You seem to be a bit tied up, Kim Possible."

Kim resisted the urge to spit in the villain's face. Suddenly, a familiar ringing tone caught her attention. She tried to reach into her pocket, but her arms were held firmly in place. Drakken grabbed her communicator, pulling it out of her pocket. "Hello?"

On the other side of the connection, Wade effectively hid his surprise at seeing Drakken's hideous features. "You better turn back now, Drew. You're in for a world of hurt if you keep going."

Drakken looked a bit ruffled for a moment, irritated by the use of his real name. He quickly regained his composure, though his latest attempt to put on the image of a true super villain was compromised. "No, Kim's little computer friend, it is you who are going to suffer... or is going to suffer. One or the other. You will suffer, when in only hours I take over the world!" The menacing blue figure broke into a fit of laughter, throwing the communicator down on the floor. He stomped on the small electronic device several times.

"I'll be back for you two later," Drakken said as he spun around. "Until then, hang tight."

"Hey, hey... good one," Ron said sarcastically. "You got to admit he is getting better," Ron said to Kim after the door had shut behind Drakken.

Jack Brigsby's lunch was quite rudely interrupted by his cell phone, and the special agent resisted the urge to immediately turn it off, all too aware of how important the message could be. He pulled the small phone from his pocket, flipping open the cover and checking the caller ID.

To his surprise, it wasn't someone from the agency. "Kim Possible's little computer buddy," he mumbled, moving his finger towards the disconnect button to cut off the call before it even began. After all, orders were orders.

Or were they? Brigsby's finger froze only a fraction of an inch above the button as devious thoughts swam through his mind. Had he not been professionally and personally humiliated a mere hour ago by Rich Melbourne? Hadn't Melbourne been giving him the most stressful and unrewarding jobs possible for several weeks? Hadn't Melbourne threatened him if he didn't yield to the old man's demands?

It was wrong, and Brigsby knew it, but he couldn't resist stirring up the waters. No one on Melbourne's staff, including Brigsby, were supposed to have any contact with Kim Possible's clan... but suppose that the caller ID did not kick in for some reason or another, thus allowing a brief conversation to ensue. There would be no wrongdoing on Brigsby's part, though he would be forced to file an anomaly report. But the fun was that Melbourne would be forced to explain that report to the National Security Council. However insignificant, answering this call would create hours of headaches for the Deputy Director—perfect bureaucratic-style revenge.

Pressing the button to open the line, Brigsby brought the small phone to his ear. "Jack Brigsby."

"Agent Brigsby, this is Wade, Kim's friend. I need your help."

"I'm sorry, son, but we're not supposed to be working with your agency. I wouldn't of even answered if you had shown up on my caller ID."

"Wait! Please sir, please, for the love of all that is good, hear me out!'

Brigsby had already begun to pull the phone away from his ear, the impassioned plea of the young man sending a shiver down his spine. He'd only talked to the kid on one other occasion, but he could tell it was highly unusual for the young man to get so emotional. Something big was up.

"Alright, kid, you've got two minutes."

Wade wanted to begin with a string of thank yous, a sense of immeasurable relief running through his body. But he knew Brigsby was a practical man, and would construe his expression of appreciation as a waste of time. Thus, Wade immediately went into the details of how Kim and Ron were trapped aboard a submarine, as well as the danger posed if Drakken succeeded.

Brigsby listened attentively, recognizing the seriousness of the situation. Finally Wade's speech wrapped up, and Brigsby had an opportunity to reply. "Son, you need to understand, there are a number of reasons why I can't help."

"Mr. Brigsby, we are talking life and death here. It doesn't get more serious."

"I'm talking official orders. Frankly, I've violated them by speaking with you this long. The National Security Council wanted no contact between the CIA and you and your friends." Brigsby's tone was gruff, and Wade felt a sinking sensation in his stomach.

Brigsby prepared to end the conversation once and for all, but a strange, nagging feeling prevented him from simply hanging up. Deep within him he felt an unusual stress as his brain accelerated rapidly, thoughts flying through his mind impossibly fast. "Wade, give me a few minutes, and I'll call you back." He closed the phone, cutting off Wade's thankful reply. He needed the time to think.

The order had to do with politics. Of that he was sure. The problem which was facing the two teens had to do with life and death, and if Wade was right, possibly the fate of the free world. Brigsby felt a burning energy emerging from deep within. He had joined the CIA to help people and to serve his country. His gruff attitude and short temper had always concealed his desire to do what was right, and the political atmosphere of the Agency had made him appear even more cynical. His desire to do what was right had been pushed aside as promotion ambitions took over.

But Brigsby's mind kept wandering back to that point which he had long ago forgotten about. _He had joined the CIA to help people_. He was rude and arrogant, but he also knew what was right. And in this case, Brigsby realized, the orders were not. Wade was right. Brigsby began to feel revitalized as a new wave of energy rushed through his body. This was his chance to go back to his roots, to do what he had joined the Agency to do. This was his chance to do what was right.

He opened his cellphone slowly, fully realizing what he was about to do would more than likely end his career, and could possibly land him in prison. But doing the right thing would mean being punished by others for a short time, doing the wrong thing would force him to punish himself for eternity. Despite all he was risking, all he was throwing away, his mind was set. He punched several buttons on his phone, bringing it to his ear.

"I'm in."


End file.
